The Entries of Hogwarts
by ShamiksXa
Summary: Diary entries of our favorite Hogwarts characters, Harry Poter characters in general. Updated over time, never beta'd. Rated T for language (and mature concepts cough cough) No specific storyline, just drabble scenes
1. Draco

**For fun only. I make no profit off of this, everything in the Harry Potter franchise is J.K Rowlings and should stay her's for the better. I don't know what this is.**

:Draco:

This in no way is a diary. I simply call it a _creative memoir writing exercise_. Father insists I go to a physical and mental therapist- a big waste of time if you ask me. Whatever. I go back to Hogwarts as a fourth-year student in a just about a week, and I would rather be caught making out with Professor Flitwick than being seen with this in the Slytherin common room. Course, I have never done that. I would hope I will never get to do that, either.

I don't dread going back to Hogwarts. Honestly, I think the thing I'm dreading is the people there. It's strange. Well, you can't just fight it. If I want a future, I might as go back. That and my mother insists on education. Apparently, the Malfoy line is dropping slowly and Potter's name is climbing up the stats. Well, I couldn't let that happen, could I? Though it is only one person that leads the entire name. I suppose that isn't his fault. I mean, brutally murdering everyone a child had ever loved and cared about is just sad and despicable. I suppose I pity him more than I should.

Mother bought me a dress robe to wear this year. It's a beautiful emerald green color, the fabric so soft it's insane. I'm tempted to sleep in the thing, but considering how expensive it was (Well, considering my other clothes anyways. It wasn't a too bad of a sacrifice.) It also came with a jet black ribbon to tie my hair back, but I honestly don't think it would be necessary. I like my hair down and free. Shoes were made of a flexible leather, much better than the school shoes that left merciless blisters at my feet. Faint silver vines and snakes crept from the hem of the robe. It looked rather feminine, but I looked presentable in it and it was really all that mattered. I couldn't care less about balls and dances anyways. Women in beautiful dresses and rings never pleased me strangely. I liked _realistic_ women, not dainty fake laughs, smiling painted lips, perfect figures, and sturdy postures that could stand straighter than their sexualities.

Mother said it resembled Harry Potter. I said that she should shut her mouth before I burn it in the floo.

Apparently, mother was trying to marry me off to Pansy Parkinson. The family desperately agreed, Pansy extremely ecstatic, but I hadn't agreed to the marriage so far and it was held in a knot of uncertainty. Mother has been trying to show me how fitting Pansy was, how happy she made her, but honestly, I couldn't care less. Pansy could shove her ego up her ass. I was never up for the whole "damsel in distress" or "desperate maiden of riches and welfare" anyways.

Stellar died today. She was getting old anyways, but it still pained me to see the beauty cry in agony and rest her head on the grass forever. She was a good wolf, I suppose. I'd known her since she was a pup. I was four then. I only hope she's in a better place with her brother and soon, her children. The other wolves of the pack howled in distress, so much so that it drove Father insane and ordered all the house elves to cast silencing charms on the entire facility in which they were held in.

Vince just had 16 boxes of Every Flavored Beans. I feel bad about picking out all the horrible ones and putting them in the boxes now. He claims they were all good, but Crabby and I know the truth. I reckon he got a squid ink one and the frog dung, but maybe he just has messed up taste buds and thought they were Black Licorice and Caramel Apple.

Let me tell you, bean vomit does not smell good. Nor looks good for the matter, but really, the smell is so nauseating and horrible that the repulsive lumps and brown goo didn't look as bad.

He did get me back after that. I suppose. I assume Greg told Vincent, because that every evening, he had enchanted with his father's wand all the gobstones to root for his team when I was their player, and then all the chess pieces to attack each other so I would end up with nothing... It wasn't bad as vomit, I'll admit, but I reek of the smell of his throw-up as well and we were even.

By this point, I'm just trying to grab little parts of my day and cram them into this stupid book so I don't get scolded and yelled at. You can't blame me! I'm desperate to get these unnecessary sessions over.

This daily diary thing is just stupid. Apparently, I was supposed to pour my feelings into this, give it my love, share my deepest darkest feelings, thoughts, and whatever. Desires. That's just stupid. What if someone finds this **_diary_** \- no. I refuse to call it that. This **_journal._** What if someone finds this bloody thing? That would be mortifying (though would make some good gossip).

Besides, my "therapist" is going to read this. And to that I say, fuck this idea.

-Draconis Malfoy


	2. Draco (2)

I met a boy in London once. He had the eyes of a spring day, the shaggy hair of the raven's night, and the smile of a broken angel.

And suddenly, my heart was filled overwhelmed with this feeling- emotion- this peculiar feeling as if someone had filled the hole in my heart and poured in some substance and molded there forever. Soon, that feeling had chipped away but a small piece of it had always been stuck there.

I never knew his name, as those awful, horrible muggles that were supposedly his parents and his cousin pulled him away and not so gently smacked him across the cheek. He didn't look hurt, though. As scrawny as he was, he just simply closed his eyes and braced himself as if this had happened more than once before. It enraged me, as such the fact that a beautiful boy could be put into such a sick family and fate.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him two years later in Diagon Alley, with the great brute Hagrid and as the one and only Harry Potter.

Still, I had been immensely in love with that boy- even though if he's a Gryffindor, even if he became friends with the Mudblood, even if he had been attached to that red-headed Weasley, or hated the living hell out of him and constantly decided to argue, as all our conversations so far have just been endless banter. Or when he turned me down when I tried asking him at the Yule Ball a year ago, though according to Vince and Greg I came on way too strong and way,... way too sarcastic. It seems as though I could never do any right.

That, and I never really thought about coming out to my parents.

Well, actually, I never really thought about it that much. It never came to my mind that I may have possibly been queer, or gay, as they call it. But I know for certain that if I had told Mother or Father, I would have been slurred with an army of insults of how I was a disgrace to the family, how I am not worthy of the Malfoy name, how I simply was a monster and deserved punishment for eternity. I live in fear of words from them, opinions from them, and each day those words echo in my head as if a broken record was replaying itself over and over and over, so much so it'll one day drive you over the edge and make you insane.

It pained me that day to see him with that disaster of a girl, Cedar Chang or something similar. For she did not deserve my beloved, she is not worthy of his love, she is not suited for Harry. She was beautiful but selfish and haughty as she wanted him for attention, not for love. Not for kindness, not for pity, but just pure selfishness. She wanted fame, she wanted glory, she wanted to be known as the spouse of Harry Potter. And as Draco Malfoy, that will absolutely not happen.

Vincent says my attachment to Potter is utter insanity. I used to weakly agree with him, nod silently, but it feels like a betrayal to my heart, and always hits me with a _pang_ and a dull thud in my stomach. And so after four horrible years, I've decided I shouldn't be hiding my feelings any longer.

It's one of those things where you have a feeling for- good or bad, but you just _know_ you needed to confront it and brace yourself.

* * *

Potter had grown slightly more attractive over the summer.

Well, okay. Maybe a bit more that slightly. If a bit meant landslide, then yeah. A bit more than slightly more attractive.

His skin had always been pale in comparison to his friends. Considering how the muggle family- the Dursleys- treats him, I honestly am not surprised.

He allowed his hair to grow out though, as it came just above his collar of his school robes. It framed his face nicely as he was quite slender, and was a pleasing contrast with, well, again, the paleness.

Then, of course, there was the elephant in the room: he had grown nearly 4 inches taller than what he was last the glasses had given him a dorky, adorable look but had hidden and overshadowed the brilliant green pupils that were certainly pulled out of a fairytale. It was unrealistic and beautiful.

I've lost myself in those eyes before, drowning eternally in a flooding sea of emerald green. It's been awhile since that happened as I've sadly regained my dignity on something I would rather not be dignified at, but appreciative anyways as I don't need a hoard of Rita Skeeters chasing after me or him for the gossip section of their ridiculed magazines and papers. Instead of those glasses, he had resorted to this muggle invention called _contacts,_ which serve as non-physical chunky rest-on-face glasses but transparent flexible _things_ that you place on your eyeball and peel them off during the night. It seems like a terrifying process if you ask my opinion.

Though I love this new look, I can't help but notice the staring eyes of others- lustful and dirty and dreamy and desperate. If I was like that, then I will not defend myself by saying that I must've been a pain in the arse to Vince and Greg. Or more of a pain in the arse, I suppose.

Apparently, I was like that. And that was not a very comforting thought.

* * *

 **DRABBLE NO.2**

 **Thank you to Karen Hikari for doing me the pleasure of beta'ing! Also, angst is beautiful indeed. I love making this poor girl hurt and scream "HOW DARE YOU!" However, I like to keep my drabbles light and fluffy. If you want angst... oh, just ask. I have a lot of angst plans... just you wait.**


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